


left-handed kisses

by incognitajones



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M, Gift Fic, Jealousy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-01 05:58:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6503668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incognitajones/pseuds/incognitajones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rey turns away, but it doesn’t matter where she's looking; she could chart the precise location of every point on his body relative to hers with her eyes closed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [13oct](https://archiveofourown.org/users/13oct/gifts).



> For 13oct, who requested oblivious Ben and jealous Rey. While there’s slightly more pining than jealousy, I hope you still enjoy it!

Rey doesn’t see who else is at their usual table for breakfast until it’s too late for her to turn around and find somewhere else to sit in the crowded mess. Finn will notice, even if Ben doesn’t. 

She sighs and takes the chair across from Kaydel. The flight controller greets her with a cheerful smile and goes right back to chattering at Ben, who looms beside her like a thundercloud overshadowing a tiny sun. Kaydel is happy, uncomplicated, and sweet; it isn’t surprising that Ben seems to like her. And she certainly hasn’t made any secret of liking him.

Rey hacks off a purple slice of jogan fruit with unnecessary force and asks Poe about the recon mission Red Squadron flew yesterday. She’s listening very attentively to his account of navigating through the Gam Tim'nisi asteroid field when a movement catches her eye and she looks across the table to see Ben bending his head down so that Kaydel can touch his hair. She’s talking about some kind of traditional Alderaani braid as her fingers weave through the dark strands.

“Are you okay?” Finn asks. “Rey? Did you bite your tongue or something?”

“Forgot sweetener in my caf,” she mutters, and seizes the chance to pick up her mug and leave.

 

Some days, meditation is easy and Rey can sink into the living Force that surrounds her as soon as she closes her eyes. Today is not one of those days.

She’s given up on finding her centre for the moment and is practicing one-armed handstands instead when a fallen leaf blows across the ground, brushing over her fingers before it dances up on a purposeful updraft of the breeze to flick her cheek. Such a minor distraction shouldn’t affect her balance but she sneezes and falls backward. She’d topple to the ground hard enough to bruise, if it weren’t for the gentle press of buoyancy from the air around her.

It’s Ben, of course. Rey stays flat on her back as he walks toward her. “You distracted me,” she grumbles.

“What’s going on?” From this angle he’s upside down, but his hair is still pulled back from his face in that elaborate braid and she can clearly see the frown creasing his eyes. “You’re a little off this morning.”

Rey reaches for the first excuse that comes to mind. “Didn’t sleep well.”

He might suspect she’s lying, but he’ll never call her on it. She can count on one hand the number of times he’s used the Force to read her since the interrogation—and never once since he defected to the Resistance.

He holds out a hand and she grabs it, using it as a fulcrum to flip upright on to her feet. The instant that her toes touch the ground, she sweeps her right leg out, but Ben has caught the flicker of intention in her eyes and is ready for her. 

They spar, whirling across the training ground in elaborate, exaggerated spirals as they attempt ever more complicated unarmed combat forms. He gets in one good blow that sends her neck snapping back and will leave a mark on her jaw, but mostly they’re just playing. 

This is what Rey needed, not the stillness of meditation. The burn and strain of pushing her muscles to the limit of their range empties her mind and smooths out her ragged impatience.

Ben drops under a kick that she expected him to block and grabs her foot, using her momentum to throw her sprawling over his back. She turns the fall into a somersault and pops up, grinning. Abandoning finesse, she launches herself at his legs again; exploiting her lower centre of gravity is the only hope she has in these hand-to-hand matches. 

He goes down in a heap, but even then he’s so long that Rey has to stretch almost out of her balance point in order to brace a forearm across his neck.

“Feeling better now?” He’s laughing, the muscles of his throat moving under her bare skin, and his hair has fallen into the tousled mess she’s used to, half-hiding his eyes. 

“Yeah. Thanks.” Rey jumps to her feet and starts brushing off her leggings as thoroughly as she can. Ben waits a moment, but when she doesn’t offer a hand he gathers his ridiculously long legs under him and rises unassisted.

“You need a haircut,” she blurts. “Finn’s pretty good at it—he’s done mine, and Poe’s.”

He pushes the waves out of his face, running a hand through them self-consciously. “I guess it is getting a little out of control. Kaydel was making fun of it too.”

Rey stomps across the clearing to pick up her canteen. It’s good to see others talking to Ben. Really. It shows that he’s finally being accepted by the Resistance. She can’t be so petty as to wish for the days when she was practically the only one who spoke to him, and then under protest.

“Can I…?” He gestures at the water bottle and she holds it out. As he takes it, their hands don’t touch but the inch that separates their fingers hums with charged static. 

He tips his head back and drains at least half the bottle in a single gulp. Rey turns away, but it doesn’t matter where she's looking; she could chart the precise location of every point on his body relative to hers with her eyes closed.

“Leave some for me, will you?” she snaps.

“Don’t worry, I know better than to drink all your water.” He’s joking, but not really, because Rey will never go anywhere without a full canteen of potable water; it doesn’t matter whether she’s headed to the training ground for half a day, or to the Unknown Regions for a month. The brutal lessons of survival stick with you.

And this is another one, Rey reminds herself: don’t ask more of someone than they have to give. Ben is her ex-enemy, her comrade and fellow Jedi-in-training, and (she hopes) her friend. Their weird affinity is precarious enough, without the risk of unbalancing it by adding the weight of feelings he doesn’t share.

It’s too much; it’s not enough. But it’s what she can have.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Celebrating Star Wars Day with an update at last! Thank you all for your kind comments and your patience; thanks especially to oct13 for waiting so long for the second half of their story.

The planet housing the current Resistance base isn’t as rainy as Ahch-To was year-round, but when a storm system passes through, the sluggish clouds hang overhead far too long. By the fourth straight day of rain, even Rey is over-saturated and irritable at being forced to train either outside in gluey mud or inside on hard duracrete floors. When she sees Kaydel sitting beside Ben at dinner again, she grabs a handful of ration bars and backtracks out of the mess before anyone notices.

This base was repurposed from an outdated planetary flight installation, so the control tower is an actual tower with panoramic windows in addition to the usual holographic displays. It also features an observation room one floor below that’s become one of Rey’s favourite refuges. No-one else seems to use it, even though you can see for miles, but maybe they don’t find having the high ground as comforting as she does.

Rey curls up sideways in one of the cracked leather chairs, peeling the wrappers off bars of compacted nutrient paste and gnawing them mechanically. When she’s finished, she tilts her head against the back of the seat and stares through the windows without focusing on anything in particular. Water patters on the transparisteel and trickles down in streams; the pale yellow trees outside ripple and blur into dimness as the two invisible suns set behind the darkening rainclouds.

She knows when Ben enters the room, but she doesn’t look over or greet him as he folds his large frame precariously into the chair beside her. He’s silent too. Only the irregular, overlapping percussion of the rain fills the space between them. Now that night has come, the temperature in the room is dropping quickly. Rey can see her breath in faint, wispy clouds against the darkness outside.

“I don't usually have to guess why you're angry at me,” Ben says, finally. “I think I prefer it when you yell.”

“I'm not mad at you.” Rey’s denial is reflexive but not untrue; it's herself she's angry with. She cranes her neck to look at him and her head rocks backward in surprise. 

“You cut your hair!”

It barely covers the tips of his sizeable ears now. He looks heartbreakingly young—if it weren’t for the pale groove carved across his face and the somber expression in his eyes, he could almost be the teenager she’s glimpsed in some of Leia’s old holos.

“Why are you so surprised? You told me to.” His brows angle together in confusion.

Rey can’t answer that without skirting too close to the reason she’s hiding from him in the first place, so she resorts to sarcasm. “And you always do what I tell you.”

“More often than not.” He half-smiles and pushes the hair back from his forehead in exactly the same way he always does, even though there’s so much less of it. “I came to tell you that Chewie and I are leaving in the morning.”

“The clan elders agreed to meet with you?” 

Ben nods. “I don’t know how Chewie talked them into it, but he did.”

Few Wookiees are particularly strong in the Force; one of Chewbacca’s many nieces seems to be an exception to that rule. But the elders are reluctant to let her leave Kashyyk for training, especially when it means allowing her to be taught by the infamous former Knight of Ren. Months ago Ben had offered to travel there and present himself for their inspection in the hope that if he could establish his trustworthiness, the elders might change their minds. They’ve taken so long to consider the suggestion that Rey had almost forgotten about it.

“How long will you be gone?” Rey turns back toward the window. In the darkened glass, both she and Ben are watery shadows almost indistinguishable from the night outside except for the pale gleam of their faces and hands. 

“I don’t know. It depends on what they ask of me.” His reflection shrugs. “I just hope they don’t send me into the Shadowforest. Chewie’s told me too many scary stories about it.”

“Well. Good luck, then.” Rey can’t quite keep an edge of disappointment from sharpening her voice. Luke is already away on a long journey into the Outer Rim; once Ben leaves, she and Finn won’t have anyone else to train with. That’s the only legitimate reason she has to feel deprived by his absence. 

Ben’s reflected shadow twists into a new shape as his toes flex in toward each other, sending his knees up even higher. “Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you first?”

“It’s not important.” Rey shivers. She tucks her feet under her thighs and curls up tighter, wrapping her arms around herself to retain any warmth she can. “Honestly.”

It almost sounds believable. She must be getting better at lying. 

“Will you at least come back to the mess? Wexley’s going to screen some awful Old Republic serial I remember from years ago. You’d love it.” 

“I just want to be alone for a while, okay?” Rey is perfectly aware that she’s being childish, but she absolutely, categorically refuses to watch Kaydel flirt with Ben right now. She’d rather stay here and wallow in her bad mood. 

Ben’s lips harden into a thin line. He breathes out harshly through his nose. “Fine.” He pushes himself to his feet and automatically runs his hand through his hair again. “So. I guess this is goodbye.”

It’s irrational, but Rey’s friends understand how much she loathes watching their ships fly away. She never says her farewells at the moment of departure. Even when he’s angry at her, Ben remembers that. 

Rey swallows hard, forcing her stiff and reluctant tongue to form the word. “Goodbye.” 

She can see in the glass that he pauses in the doorway with his back to her, but he doesn’t say anything else before he leaves. 

 

It isn’t until she’s in her bed, huddled under all the blankets she’s collected, that Rey wonders whether their conversation was more complicated than she understood. Growing up with no-one to disagree with means she’s still not very good at taking others’ opinions and feelings into account, and she’s not practiced at interpreting hints either. Did Ben tell her because he wanted her to offer to go with them? He knows she wouldn’t leave Finn on his own. Or was she supposed to say she didn’t want him to leave, even though he probably already knows that?

She rolls over, pulling the bedding up over her head in a stifling cocoon. It would be so much simpler if what she craved was limited to muscle and warm skin, the parts of him she could touch with her own body. The thought of that is dizzying enough. But it’s just a gateway to what she truly wants—which she’s starting to suspect is all of him, every piece he’s willing to share, for the rest of her life.

Maybe Ben’s leaving right now is a sign from the Force. She could use the time he’s away to figure out how to convince herself she doesn’t want what she can’t have. After all, as long as they’re on the same planet she can’t continue to avoid him and lie to his face forever. 

Or maybe she should just tell him. She’s pretty sure Ben would at least try to let her down gently, which might give her a head start at getting over him. 

Rey can’t breathe under her pile of blankets. She thrashes her way out of them impatiently. 

It’s like the split second climbing up through an access shaft when you have to choose whether to let go of your failing handhold and leap for another one, with hundreds of metres of air to fall through below you; she’s stranded at the balance point of two equally precarious alternatives. But you can’t cling to the same microscopic edge of rusted metal forever. Rey had learned it was better to make the jump sooner, with the drive of a conscious choice, than to hesitate until shaking muscles forced her into it. 

She stares up at the mobile she strung of feathers and hung from her ceiling, as it trembles in air currents she can’t feel, and decides to leap. 

 

In the dull grey dawn, Rey heaves herself out of her warm bed. She sends out a quiet, tentative _Wait for me_ , and hopes Ben is listening. 

(On the other hand, if he’s already left then she’ll get a temporary reprieve from following through on this foolhardy decision.)

It’s finally stopped raining, but the yellow-leaved trees are still dripping in syncopated time. A heavy mist rises from the sodden ground. By the time Rey has slogged through the mud to the Falcon’s landing pad her boots are soaked, her rain slicker is streaming and the hood isn’t doing a very good job of keeping her dry. She swipes wet hair out of her face, annoyed.

Ben is standing halfway down the ramp with an arm looped over one of the hydraulic struts, bent over and peering out into the dim morning to watch for her. When she tilts her hood back to look up at him, she catches one of his rare true smiles as it spreads slowly over his face.

“You look like a drowned rat.”

That does it. Rey’s feet drive her forward, splashing through the puddles and clanging on the ramp, although she still isn’t sure what she’s going to do until the moment she charges up to Ben, rolls up onto her toes to gain a few vital inches, and kisses him.

It’s more a collision than a kiss—there’s no finesse to it, just the blunt impact of her lips on his. Ben jerks away, his face stiff with confused shock, and Rey’s recklessness evaporates. 

She was a fool to leap.

She wishes she were capable of using the Force to become incorporeal. Or invisible. Or to teleport back to Jakku. Any of those would be infinitely preferable to this terrible moment when she can feel the yank of gravity on her stomach that signals a long free-fall drop. The impact is going to break her—and break Ben’s trust in her, which is worse.

It takes Rey an instant too long to remember that she can still move. And that means Ben is able to lunge for her and cinch one hand around her wrist before she gets out of reach.

“What the—Rey, what was that for?” 

Rey can’t look him in the eye, so she stares at his chin. 

“I couldn't—” Her voice is thready and pitiful, giving away too much. She clears her throat and projects all the nonchalance she can muster. “I didn’t want you to leave without saying a proper goodbye to you. And Chewie, of course.” 

“Really.” He tugs gently but insistently on her arm, and she stumbles forward as he steps closer until they’re pressed together from chest to thighs. He doesn’t seem to notice that her wet jacket is soaking through the front of his shirt. “Would you like to kiss Chewie goodbye too?”

“No.”

In the past few years, Rey’s met several different incarnations of Ben Solo: her enemy, cruel and unpredictable; her grudging, desperate ally; her teacher, silent and scarred. But this Ben, eyes bright as he teases her, this one is new and overwhelming. She flattens her lips together to keep a lunatic smile from rising. 

Without thought, her hand lifts to tangle in the short hair at the back of his neck the way she’s wanted to for what seems like the last few centuries. He bows his head at the touch of her fingers, bringing his mouth close to hers again. This time their lips meet slowly, softly, attentively. 

The most amazing part is that a kiss can be so revelatory and yet so familiar, as if she already knew how Ben would feel and taste. Rey locks her arms around his neck and pulls herself even closer. _I need you, I need you_ reflects from mind to mind, echoing so strongly she doesn’t know who thought it first. 

“Come on, kid, time to go,” Chewie bellows at Ben from the top of the ramp.

Rey sinks back on to her heels, reluctantly separating from Ben’s radiant warmth. His face is blinding, even with her eyes closed. He leans down to rest his forehead against hers and for a long moment they do nothing but breathe each other in. Rey can’t remember why she let fear hold her back for so long. Her hair is still dripping into her face and she’s not sure whether she’s laughing or crying.

“Goodbye, Rey.” Ben’s last kiss is warm on her temple. Her fingers slip over his damp shirt millimetre by millimetre, unwilling to lose contact as he pulls away. He walks backward up the ramp without taking his eyes off her. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. I promise.” 

Rey backs down the ramp, not turning away either, and stumbles when her boots meet the cracked pavement. She can’t trust her voice to work right now, so she only holds up a hand in farewell.

“You humans.” Chewie’s disgusted voice reverberates from the ship as the hydraulics begin to whir shut. “Always licking each other.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to laugh when I realized that this part was more than double the length of the first. Why does making two characters kiss always require so much more work than keeping them apart? There must be a Law of Shipping Inertia which applies.
> 
> PSA: I’ve joined the Tumblring hordes at incognitajones.tumblr.com.

**Author's Note:**

> The title isn't particularly meaningful, just borrowed from the M Ward/Fiona Apple song I can't stop listening to at the moment.


End file.
